‘We could leave. We could go to Bombay, or on to Australia. I hear there’s a good life to be lived further east. There’s gold mining out there. Or, I’ll take you back to Britain. To Penzance. We could —’
‘Stop,’ she said, tears welling now, as she covered his mouth with her hand to still his words. ‘Please. We don’t have a future, Jack. What we’ve done today is unforgivable but it’s still not too late for us to rescue this.’ She held up her left hand. ‘I purposely didn’t wear his ring, you know. I told him that until the ring was sized and on my finger, we wouldn’t be engaged. So, right now, Jack, our consciences – well, yours at least – can be clear.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re deluding yourself, Iris. We’ve both betrayed Ned; we’re as guilty this moment as if he were walking in right now to find us naked —’
She hushed him again, as if by covering his mouth she could prevent the guilt from wrapping itself around her. Jack didn’t try to finish his sentence. He just looked broken.
‘Why does he get you?’ he asked.
‘Because you can have any woman in KGF, Bangalore … hell, the whole of India or the colonies. You’ll never lack for women who want you, Jack.’
‘I don’t want other women.’
‘Ned doesn’t have the luxury of other women. There’s something so fragile about Ned. I suspect it has to do with him losing his parents so tragically and then that whole business of his friend in Rangoon. I’m not sure he’s ever told me the whole story, but —’
‘One day you must get him to tell it … all of it,’ Jack replied and there was a cruel edge in his voice suddenly.
She ignored it. ‘All I know is that he’s somehow … somehow damaged from the experience. If I hurt Ned now, it could be his undoing.’
‘And so you’ll give your life to him … to protect him from himself?’ Jack asked, aghast.
‘It’s only you who makes me unsure of myself. I thought I loved Ned. I thought I could be happy with Ned.’
‘And now?’
‘I still can be – if you stay away from me.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Jack, do you really love me?’
‘I really love you.’ He looked unwaveringly into her eyes. ‘I’ve never admitted that to any woman before.’
She refused to smile. ‘Enough that you would stay in India – no, let’s say Bangalore – forever and never feel the pull of Britain, or adventuring, again?’
‘I —’
‘You need to be honest.’
‘At this moment my head is filled only with you. But why can’t we be together and allow our future to be shaped by events? Why must I commit now to where you want us to live for the rest of our days?’
‘Because only then will you understand what true commitment to me really means. It’s not just me. It’s my family, it’s my lifestyle, it’s being Anglo-Indian.’
He shook his head unhappily. ‘What about my family? My lifestyle? What about being Cornish?’
‘Exactly. Ned will make the sacrifice.’
‘Ned has nothing to give up.’
‘Ned is safe, Jack. Not only will he be a good husband but he truly and completely worships me.’
‘Iris, Ned worships everything you represent – it’s a bonus that you are beautiful and so easy to love – but what he searches for is stability and family and a place to belong. You offer him that.’
Jack was right but his comments didn’t make Ned less suitable in her mind. ‘And do you love Ned?’
‘He’s the brother I never had.’
‘Then for the sake of the two people you love best, let me go. I can’t be strong without your help.’
Jack stood, struggled to wrench his jacket off and flung it on the ground. He undid his waistcoat, as though needing more air, and then stalked away. She watched him retreat, absorbing every detail of his tall, strong body.
She distracted herself by picking up his jacket, dusting it and holding it close. Jack was leaning against the side of the house, gazing out into the garden. She heard him make a sound – a groan of sorts – like an animal in pain. And then he turned and the wounded look in his expression nearly sent her careening towards him. She squeezed the jacket closer and gritted her teeth, letting his pain roar at her as strongly as if he’d shouted it. But his pain was silent now – a grief-stricken resignation.
She looked down so she wouldn’t have to witness his capitulation and noticed a watch on the ground. ‘What’s this?’ She bent and picked it up.
Jack walked over, offered a hand and she placed it into his palm. ‘It’s my mother’s,’ he said, his voice hollow.
‘It’s so beautiful.’ Iris stared closer at the tiny blue face, the sparkling diamonds that encrusted its frame and formed a pair of exquisite V-shaped links either side of the face. She touched the clasp, magnificently wrought in silver in the shape of two tiny hands holding each other. ‘It’s the loveliest watch I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t she miss it?’
Jack shrugged.
‘And you carry it around with you?’
‘I’m never without it. Try it on.’
She shrank back, torn. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t,’ she said, but her hungry eyes said the opposite.
‘Here, just try it. It’d be nice to see it on a woman’s slim wrist again.’ He undid the delicate clasp and placed the watch around her wrist.
Iris sucked in a breath. The diamonds caught the sun’s rays and glittered with a fiery response to their touch. ‘Jack, it’s divine. How could your mother part with it?’
He looked embarrassed. ‘She wanted me to keep something of her close.’
‘But it’s so precious. I would never let it out of my sight if this were mine.’
‘It’s with me every moment of each day. It’s my family, my Cornwall, my former life.’
‘You sound sad.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t actually look at it that often for that reason. I just dutifully move it from pocket to pocket as required. It’s a habit now.’
‘Well … if you ever want someone to wear it so you can see it on a wrist and admire it from a distance, you only have to ask,’ she said archly but undid the clasp and offered the watch back.
‘I guess I’ll give it to my wife,’ he said, holding her stare until she had to look away.
‘Come on, Jack. Show me through the rest of the house.’ Iris turned, not giving him a chance to respond, returning through the double doors that led into the sitting room. She didn’t wait, but heard his footsteps, gritty against the unswept verandah.
At least he was moving, following. The moment of madness had passed. Or so she hoped. But her heart was still pounding with anticipation and her throat felt tight with tension. All it would take was for Jack to touch her and she was sure her skin would sizzle from the heat he was creating around her, deep within her. She fanned herself with her hand and walked on – and realised too late her mistake.
Several large bedrooms led off a T-shaped hallway and she had stepped into one, almost blindly, just trying to keep walking, remain distracted and not think about her breasts suddenly feeling heavy, her nipples aching.
And now Jack blocked the doorway. She would not be able to get by him without touching him, without wanting to touch him! Iris stepped further into the room feeling damned by her own lack of will to walk out but even more so by the huge four-poster bed. Faded curtains were half drawn and through the large windows she saw a camellia bush, more of a tree actually, that gave them secrecy.
Iris felt her cheeks grow hot. She wasn’t even sure she was still breathing. She turned suddenly on him. He stood as still as a sculpture, leaning against the doorframe, filling the space, his eyes darker, impaling her with a hard gaze.
Jack pushed off the doorframe, not permitting her to look away from him. She flinched, frightened, yet excited. Oh, she wasn’t this sort of girl! It was as though someone else was walking in her body and she was as helpless as a puppet, dancing to the strings of des
ire that suddenly controlled her.
‘Iris,’ he said, his voice thick and husky.
‘Jack, we mustn’t.’ The words at least sounded right. They were the correct ones to say, even though it was already far too late for them.
Opportunity, privacy and desire … they had come together in perfect synchrony and now the choice was all hers. Jack paused, still not touching her but standing so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
It was her choice. He would not make it for her.
Iris chose.
She allowed her face to close the few sparse inches between them and laid her cheek against his chest, and then she was in his strong, all-enveloping embrace … and she was lost.
Iris didn’t remember him picking her up and laying her on the bed. She didn’t even remember Jack undressing her, although later she’d recall the moment where she seemed to step back from her own body, watching him remove his clothes. He was clumsy from his injuries but she refused to help. She simply watched, mesmerised by the sight of him, so overwhelmingly powerful in his naked manliness. There were no curves to Jack, or even the suggestion of round shapes; he was all hard muscle and flat, strong angles.
And as he kissed her, at first so gentle, so tender, tears squeezed out of her eyes to run into her hairline. Bittersweet tears of sadness for Ned. But that sadness was swept away by a primal elation that she was here, in the arms of a man she wanted more than any other.
Both of them were breathing harder, both of them were ready, and when he asked the question and she nodded, he guided himself into her gently and carefully. There was pain, but Iris welcomed it, and her gasp that made him hesitate was one of satisfaction and relief.
Instinctively she urged him closer, and with his kisses deep and demanding now, let herself go completely, following his rhythm, her treacherous fingers tracing every inch of him, committing him to memory, for she knew this was the first and only time she and Jack would ever have this excitement … this helpless, hopeless passion that overrode all sensibility and conscience.
They lay within each other’s arms, enveloped by a thick silence laced with hesitance, and although Iris would not say deep regret, it was certainly tinged with a ruefulness that she knew she would never shake off. And yet, in a strange twist, she could already feel a jealousy creeping up on her. While she knew she could never choose to have Jack like this again, she already despised every other woman who would feel him inside her, feel his kisses against her skin, feel his hands on her.
It would take a simple yes and she and Jack could be together, but for how long? As heady as this moment remained and as exciting as making love with Jack had been, she knew deep in her heart that Jack was a philanderer. She suspected his adventuring, almost heroic nature that made him so attractive also meant he was not a man who could remain still long enough to be a committed husband. Ned was neither exciting nor dashing but he was solid and trustworthy; he was reliable and she suspected Ned would fall in love only once in his life. And he had chosen her.
It was a terrible decision but she had to make it with a cool head and not get caught up in the fizzing hysteria of passion and desire. She and Jack shared a chemistry. Her body, without her permission, without any help from her mind, was reacting to Jack in a totally instinctive way. Was this her excuse? Were they simply helpless? She thought they were, although Ned would never see it that way … or her parents. The image of her father frowning in disappointment and her mother’s pursed, angry lips roused Iris into action.
‘How much longer have we got?’ she asked suddenly as the bubble of passion burst invisibly and silently to release them from its spell.
‘Time enough for the dance you promised,’ he replied, stroking her breasts.
‘Let me dress and I’ll fix my lipstick.’
‘I hate lipstick.’
‘Most men do but we feel naked without it.’
‘I’ll always prefer you naked.’
And they both smiled sadly at the poignant, accidental joke.
35
Jack took Iris back to Cubbon Park. His watch told him he had twenty more minutes alone with her before Bella rejoined them. He couldn’t imagine how he would preserve the façade he had maintained with Bella earlier that day. He dreaded having to face her gushing ways and her embarrassing efforts to flirt with him again.
The octagonal bandstand came into view, its cast-iron lacework at its prettiest in this afternoon light. Plenty of strollers and music lovers had gathered. Some were seated on the chairs around the stage, others stood by to hear one or two songs, and dancers twirled elegantly to music being provided by one of the military bands. As they drew closer, the music changed from an upbeat tempo to a gentle waltz.
He found a smile. ‘They’re playing our tune.’
‘My mother’s favourite,’ Iris admitted.
‘I know. Rupert and I sang this to keep our spirits up when they were at their lowest. It kept him conscious. I could almost say it saved our lives.’
‘That’s touching and fitting, then, for our farewell dance.’
‘You know it doesn’t have to be farewell, Iris.’
‘It must be, Jack.’
‘Just dance with me.’ He led her onto the dance area and drew her close, their bodies melting into each other again with a deep recognition.
‘Are you sure you can … with your shoulder?’
‘After what we just did?’
Iris blushed instantly, and he knew it was unfair to bait her. She didn’t deserve that.
His voice softened. ‘I could bear any pain if it means I can hold you.’
Iris smiled sadly. ‘Do you recognise anyone here?’ she asked nervously.
Jack cast a careless glance around. ‘No. Nor do I care.’
They danced and within moments he was oblivious to the people sharing the tune with them – it was just Iris, himself and the music. Closer and closer he pulled her, their steps shortening until they were barely moving. Other couples danced around them as they put their cheeks together and became lost in each other once again.
Bella Sinclair was sitting in the carriage clutching a handful of written clues, each one given to her at individual stops of their tour around the city.
‘It’s a dress, Willie! He’s going to give me a dress!’
‘Aye. I guess you’ve worked it out, Miss Bella.’
‘I’ve had a wonderful afternoon, Willie, thank you. It’s a beautiful city.’
‘I said I’d wait with you. They shouldn’t be long. We made good time and we’re a few minutes early.’
‘I can hear music,’ she exclaimed, as he helped her down from the carriage.
‘The Royal Air Force might be rehearsing for tonight’s music presentation. People will even be dancing.’
‘Dancing! How lovely. Oh, I must see.’
‘I can’t let you go alone, Miss Bella.’
‘Then come with me, Willie. We can’t miss Jack and Iris. They’ll be coming down this pathway anyway, won’t they?’
‘I suppose.’ He tethered his horse, gave it a nosebag.
She patted the horse goodbye. ‘Let’s hurry, Willie. I want to see the dancers, and I love this tune – so sad and romantic.’ She began to hum to the Irving Berlin hit as she sped closer to the bandstand.
Willie was hurrying to catch up with Bella when she suddenly stopped so abruptly that he nearly collided with her back.
‘Miss Bella? Are you all right?’
She was silent, rooted to the spot, looking shocked. Willie searched for whatever her gaze had locked onto. He shouldn’t have been surprised but he felt for the young woman, who had gushed excitedly about Bryant, and whose lip was trembling now to see him in the arms of the other woman.
‘Ah, lass. Perhaps we should have waited with Horace,’ was all he could say.
Jack reluctantly pulled away from Iris, ignoring the disapproving glances of the older people.
She was struggling too, he could see it in h
er eyes. ‘We’d better go,’ she said.
‘We still have a few minutes,’ he said, desperate to kiss again and rekindle the memory of the last couple of hours.
She didn’t resist, instead melting against him as he led her from the bandstand, perhaps equally desperate for a final moment of intimacy.
‘Iris, I —’
‘Jack Bryant? Is that you?’
Both their heads whipped around guiltily. Jack took a moment to recognise the man before him. ‘It is you, you old rogue.’
‘Henry! Bloody hell! Where did you spring from?’ He shook Henry’s hand.
‘You obviously didn’t get my letter. Ah, well, that’s Indian post for you. I would have got word to you anyway through the mine. I only arrived this morning, so don’t feel bad,’ Henry said. He raised his hat. ‘Forgive us,’ he said to Iris. ‘My very rude friend is not introducing us. I’m Henry Berry,’ he said, giving a short bow.
Jack faltered, but it couldn’t be avoided. He had to say her name. ‘I’m sorry. Er, Henry, this is Miss Iris Walker from Kolar Gold Fields.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, allowing Henry to gently take her hand. ‘Are you enjoying the music?’
‘My word, yes. I love this spot. I see you two were enjoying it too.’
Jack felt Iris stiffen beside him. ‘Iris is recently returned from London and was determined I dance this hit tune with her. Henry, do you remember Edward Sinclair? Iris is the daughter of the doctor you met with Ned. Harold Walker.’
‘Oh, right. Yes, I recall him.’
‘Edward Sinclair is my fiancé,’ Iris said flatly and Jack could tell she was determined to do her own damage control.
‘Oh,’ Henry faltered. ‘Oh, right. Top show. Er, congratulations,’ he said.
Jack didn’t think Iris had helped their cause, but it was too late now. He sighed inwardly as she continued, the additional and unnecessary information only deepening the air of guilt around them. ‘I’m chaperoning Ned’s sister, Arabella, as Jack promised to show her around Bangalore.’
‘Right,’ Henry repeated, obviously embarrassed.
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